


The Hardest Step

by Defira



Series: In Her Shadows [9]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[SPOILERS FOR ACT 3 SITH WARRIOR]</p>
<p>For Tahrin, the last few months have been rife with upheaval and unpleasantness, tempered only by her growing fondness for the strange individuals that make up her support crew. Weary from weeks of running and fighting, a shocking revelation brings her to a precipice- because to accept the news means not only learning to depend on others, it may mean an end to the myth of the inscrutable warrior that she has worked so hard to cultivate.  </p>
<p>It may seem like a small decision to make, but even a seemingly insignificant choice can be the hardest step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I apologise that my preliminary reports on the situation on Corellia did not contain a more indepth analysis of the local indigenous populations, my lord,” Quinn said, helping Tahrin onto the bed in the med bay. “Admittedly, with Imperial Intelligence suspended indefinitely, it does make acquiring current updates a little more circuitous.”

“I imagine that, given that you had no expectation we would make it as far as Corellia, you hadn’t precisely made it a priority either,” Tahrin said, rubbing absently at her chest as if it would stop the deep burning ache in her lungs. The damned rats living in the tunnels beneath the city had tried to smoke her out as she’d hunted them, and the inside of her chest felt as if it was lined with sandpaper as a result. 

Quinn was quiet for a moment as he activated the medical scanners, and she knew the barb had hit. “An astute observation, my lord,” he said, his voice a little strained. “I will be the first to admit that I had presumed my current assignment as a member of your crew would be at an end by now.”

Tahrin stared up at the roof, distracted by the discomfort in her chest. “Survival compels us to do strange and unpleasant things, captain,” she said, listening to the familiar sounds of the ship. Pierce was off trying to liberate the Bastion, and Jaesa and Vette had taken it upon themselves to assist refugees by cutting a swathe through the enemy lines to free an apartment block. Judging by the chatter she’d heard on the comms on her way back, the two women were succeeding magnificently, and providing quite a spectacle. 

Broonmark was off being, well, Broonmark- he’d hissed affectionately at her as she’d wearily entered the hangar, lurking in the shadows to catch any approaching enemies. She’d waved tiredly, her lungs still full of smoke, and he’d retreated back into the shadows, beady eyes glittering as he’d watched her stagger back up the ramp to the ship.

Which left her with Quinn- reluctantly treacherous and desperately apologetic Captain Quinn.

She’d always thought that she and Quinn got along amicably; he was not perturbed by her peculiar manner, and he was in fact the first person she had encountered since leaving the facility she’d been raised in whose behaviour and manner made perfect sense to her. She had allowed herself to relax with him, content in the knowledge that while they might not be close, they at least had an understanding, and trust. 

His betrayal last week proved to her how utterly inept she still was when it came to reading people. She could dissect an accent, study minute changes in body language, assess the relevance of physiological changes... but she could not grasp intent. For all that her intensive training had given her the tools to read a person, she still had no means of understanding them. 

Survival compelled her to accept his apology, because she had become peculiarly attached to him, and as much as she would have lauded herself for her sense of personal detachments, the thought of killing him or abandoning him on a backwater moon to deal with the wrath of Baras left her feeling bereft. 

Survival had led them here, to this uneasy truce, and she did not know what to make of it.

She coughed, her lungs raw from the smoke, and he glanced over from the console. “You should begin to feel the restorative effects soon,” he assured her, drawing a syringe with practised hands. Tahrin didn’t even grimace as he swabbed at her upper arm and injected the healing stim; years of forcing herself not to flinch in the face of pain were not so easily forgotten. “I would advise, however, that you take it easy for the rest of the day, to give the medication time to work.”

“Sadly, captain, assassins are not kind enough to give me the benefit of an afternoon off,” she said, although she didn’t immediately sit up. Truth be told she was exhausted, and it seemed an easy enough thing to do to simply lie there and accept defeat for a few hours. She had been doing her best to stay ahead of Baras for months now, and it was beginning to wear at her. 

“I have every faith that you will overcome these assassins, my lord,” Quinn said confidently, activating the med bay scanners as he returned to the console. Tahrin lay patiently as she felt her skin prickle with the energy put out by the scanners. “After all, they hardly possess the advantage that I myself managed to ruin.”

“Are you _jesting_ , captain?”

“It has been known to occur, on occasion,” he replied, but she fancied she could imagine the smile on his face even as she stared up at the roof.

“Wonders do not cease,” she said quietly, waiting patiently for the exam to finish.

There was silence but for the gentle hum of the scanners and the deeper rumble of the engines, and then-

“ _Huh_.”

Quinn’s exclamation was so unexpected, and he sounded so genuinely surprised, that Tahrin turned her head and glanced over at him.

“Is something the matter, captain?”

He was frowning severely at the screen, his brow furrowed as his fingers flew over the terminal. “Just an error with the computers, my lord,” he said distractedly, “I am certain it will be resolved when I run the tests again.”

She watched him carefully, and saw the way his face went ashen a moment or two later. “Am I to take your silence to mean the error did not resolve itself, captain?”

There was something akin to panic in his eyes for a moment, and he quite clearly steeled himself with difficulty, knuckles white as he gripped the console. “No matter, my lord, I can run the scans manually. I’ll make a note to do a full diagnostic check of the computer systems across the ship, to ensure we do not suffer any further malfunctions.”

He pulled up his sleeve to expose his wrist scanner, and the sharp green light ran over her rapidly. She blinked, eyes watering from the brightness, and watched him expectantly as he waited for the results to appear on his miniscreen. 

His jaw clenched, and his eyes flickered to meet hers for a moment; he looked away just as quickly, clearing his throat to cover his discomfort before pressing the button and scanning her yet again. 

“Your skills at deception have decreased exponentially since last week, captain,” she said, hoping the gentle prod would be enough to have him reveal whatever had him in such a state. “If you had hoped to quell my curiosity, your behaviour is hardly encouraging.”

He didn’t acknowledge her gentle teasing, or the pointed command behind the words, instead staring down at his wrist scanner. The look on his face was enough for a kernel of fear to unfurl in her stomach. “Quinn?”

“My lord,” he said instantly, bowing his head sharply- the movement was too rigid, lacking his usual restraint, and she knew then that something was desperately wrong. “There is no easy way to say this, so I beg your forgiveness for my forthrightness.”

“Out with it Quinn.”

He quite visibly braced himself, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the far wall of the med bay rather than make eye contact. “My lord, you are with child,” he said stiffly. “Several weeks gone, in fact- if my scans are correct, you have passed twelve weeks.”

Tahrin stared at him, and felt all the strength leave her; she felt hollow, as if she was made of nothing but the flimsiest paper and would crumble at a single touch. She felt full of air, and her fingers clung furiously to the edge of the bed to stop her from floating up towards the ceiling. “You are mistaken,” she said, the words hoarse and her voice unfamiliar. It sounded tinny, as if from a great distance. “Run the scans again.”

“My lord, I understand your distress, but I have run the results no less than five times now. All have confirmed what-” 

“ _Run them again!_ ”

He didn’t even flinch at the echo in her voice, or the way several panels on the wall abruptly buckled and warped; if he was unsettled by her tentative control on her force powers, he did not give any indication as he silently ran the scan once more. 

“A positive result,” he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Would you like me to try one more time with the shipboard computer?”

“I...” Tahrin swallowed, a wave of emotion roiling around inside her and making her nauseous. “I don’t understand how this is possible.”

Quinn cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, my lord, I-” He cleared his throat yet again, his face bright red. “The act of sexual congress provides the opportunity for the female partner to accept genetic material from-”

“I _know_ how a child is conceived, captain,” she snarled, her own cheeks burning and the emotion in her throat attempting to choke her. “What I do not understand is how it could happen to _me_.”

“Well,” he said, and then hesitated. “Forgive me, my lord, but you have been engaging in a sexual relationship with Pierce, have you not?”

The way he almost sneered Gabriel’s name made the panic seethe all the worse within her. “I have, and thank you for your candid appraisal of my personal affairs,” she rasped, swallowing rapidly to prevent a whimper from escaping. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to impress upon me how little you think of me for indulging in something that makes me happy.”

“I did not mean-”

“Of course you did not mean _anything_ ,” she said, “but that does not mean that you did not make your feelings blatantly apparent to me.”

She felt certain she was about to explode; she was either going to throw up or burst into tears or kill them both from the violent buildup of pressure within her. She wanted to scream and she wanted to sob and she wanted to feel in control again, but the ground had shifted so badly beneath her that she had no idea how to regain her balance.

_She was with child._

“You have my most sincere apologies, my lord,” he said quietly a moment later. “My statement was thoughtless and hurtful, at a time when I should endeavour to be nothing but supportive. You have my word that from this moment on I will commit all of my energies to ensuring the safety and success of yourself and your... legacy.”

She had a legacy. She had a lineage of her own to look forward to, not just apprentices to carry on in her name. 

“I do not understand how this is possible,” she whispered, eyes clenched tightly shut against the tears that were threatening. 

“Have you used any protections to prevent pregnancy? Any medications, any-”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, biting down on her lip. “It was never a requirement.”

Quinn hesitated before answering, and his tone was alive with curiosity when he did. “Never a requirement, my lord?”

Tahrin pressed a hand to her forehead, the ferocity of the tension in her building quickly to a headache. “Pierce was hardly- there were requirements, training.” She swallowed back her foolish babbling. “He was not the first, and it had never been an issue before now.”

He was silent for a very long moment, before quietly clearing his throat. “I can only make an assumption based on the very limited details you have disclosed about your upbringing, my lord,” he said carefully, “but I would wager that your previous masters, among other things, kept you medicated without your consent. It is a common enough practice amongst departments such as Intelligence, or against slave populations, so it would not be a great stretch of the imagination to believe your masters utilised similar techniques against you.”

“I...” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and covered her mouth with her hand. “I don’t understand. How-”

“Well, my lord, given that you arrived on Korriban nearly two years ago now, it’s plausible that any drugs you were exposed to over a long term period would have had time to wear off by now. Ergo, your body corrected the chemical imbalance and returned to a natural, and fertile, state.”

She could feel tears burning at her eyes, and her throat was tight; against her will, a small pathetic sound escaped her lips. 

His discomfort was palpable, and she could hear him shifting awkwardly. “There are, of course, safe and clinical procedures that can be performed to-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she snarled, the word echoing deeply, a hint of the dark side whipping out of her again. One of the buckled panels fell from the wall, exposing the circuitry and piping behind. 

Quinn paused again. “I realise that this is a confusing and emotional revelation for you, my lord,” he said quietly, voice stiff. “And, as always, I remain your loyal servant- you have only to tell me what it is you require of me, and it will be done.”

She felt the first tear escape from the corner of her eye, sliding down the edge of her face towards her ear, and the muffled sob from behind her hand was certainly more distinct than the first noise. 

When she held out of her hand, despising herself for the weakness it revealed, she had never been so happy when he took it in his without a moment’s hesitation. He stood beside the bed wordlessly, her hand clasped tightly in his, and she cried as the immensity of it all came crashing down on her. She cried out of fear and panic, at the knowledge that if she kept the child she could not take the same foolish risks she normally took, at the realisation that her condition now lent Baras an undeniable advantage over her. 

And more than that she cried because she did not know how to process this news, this idea that she of all unlikely people should be cursed and blessed with the mantle of motherhood. It was a role she had never assumed she would be burdened with, because how could a woman like her ever be expected to understand the vast minutiae associated with rearing a child.

She had been denied her own childhood- the thought that she was now expected to provide one was potentially the most terrifying thing to ever cross her mind. 

“You cannot tell the others,” she rasped, throat raw from crying. It had to hurt him, the way she clung so desperately to his hand, tight enough to potentially break bone, but he did not even wince. 

“It is not the sort of thing you will be able to keep secret forever, my lord,” he said patiently, with no hint of censure in his voice. She appreciated that. “If you intend to proceed with the pregnancy, I will of course be at your disposal for whatever medical or... emotional support you should require.”

She actually managed a single laugh, the sound half sob. “You need not offer something that causes you discomfort, Quinn,” she said. “I’m in no need for a confidante, especially not one who takes issue with the father of my child.”

Oh, that was a wretched thing to admit aloud; the words felt wrong on her tongue, not quite a lie but certainly far too ludicrous to feel natural. 

His relief was palpable, through the touch of his hand. “If he were not such a brutish lout, perhaps I would not take issue with him,” he muttered, though his tone was not harsh so much as resigned.

She smiled weakly. “He did a far better job of earning my confidence than you ever did, captain,” she said pointedly, “so perhaps you should look to him for advice.”

He actually laughed at that, just once, and softly. 

Tahrin cracked open a bloodshot eye. “I’m fairly certain that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh, Quinn.”

He looked somewhat sheepish, but the smile remained in place. “I could say the same of you, my lord. Although the circumstances are certainly... unique.”

“You could say that,” she said, rubbing at her head with her free hand; there was a phenomenal ache behind her eyes from the crying, a pounding that made her grit her teeth and want to void her stomach. Her face felt sticky and her nose was blocked and on the whole she felt ridiculously undignified.

Funnily enough, she didn’t really mind that he was the one to see her in this state.

“I can give you something to ease your physical distress,” he said, carefully extracting his hand from hers and heading back to the console. Her hand was hot where he had held it, and she clenched it tightly into a fist against her side. “And with your permission, I can begin to compile a comprehensive medical schedule to monitor your development over the coming months, to ensure that you remain in peak condition.”

She was still crying, tears still leaking from the corner of her eyes; every now and then she let out an awkward hiccup as she fought to get her breathing under control. “You mustn’t tell anyone, Quinn,” she repeated. “Consider that a command.”

He glanced over at her from the console. “As you say, my lord,” he said, without a hint of censure in his voice. “Do you intend to proceed with your- with the pregnancy, or would you like me to make arrangements for the appropriate-”

“Just keep it a secret for now,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the pounding in her head. “I need time to think.” 

“As you say, my lord,” he said, beside her again; she felt the sting of the needle in her arm. “This will help you to sleep, to give your body time to relax. You have just undergone a monumental shock- the rest will do you good.”

His words were already distant, and the last thing she felt before she fell asleep was his hand over hers.


	2. Chapter 2

When she woke, hours later, the lights in the med bay had been dimmed to accommodate her, and someone- she assumed it had to be Quinn- had draped a blanket over her while she slept. Her face still felt sticky, and her eyes were all but glued shut with gunk. She sat up slowly, the lights responding to her movements and illuminating the room; she winced at the change, rubbing at her eyes with one hand while the other went to her stomach.

There was some small part of her that didn’t want to believe what the scans had told her, that wanted to hope that Quinn had been mistaken or had lied to her to disorient her. But as she concentrated, dipping into a meditative state to enhance her connection to the Force, she couldn’t deny it- there was a flicker of life within her, a presence out of sync with her own heartbeat. It was not quite human, not yet- it was too new to be a fully fledged person; for now it was little more than an echo within her.

But it was there, undeniably so. She was with child, just as Quinn had said. 

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wobbling for a moment when she went to stand. Her head still ached a little, and she felt remarkably woozy- she attributed that to whatever drugs the captain had administered to calm her down earlier. More than that she felt quite detached, as if the panic and the hysteria of the afternoon was something she had only witnessed, not experienced first hand. The pain belonged to someone else, someone other than her- someone better equipped to deal with the challenges of motherhood than her. 

The med bay door swung open and she half limped into the main room.

“Master!” Apparently, in the time she’d been unconscious, Jaesa and Vette had returned from their adventures; the two young women were lounging barefoot across several chairs, Jaesa with the hilt of her lightsaber hovering in the air before her, and Vette with her head in Jaesa’s lap while she idly scrolled through a datapad. At Tahrin’s entrance, Jaesa snatched the hilt out of the air and set it down on the chair beside her, eyes shining expectantly; Jaesa’s exuberance made her want to wince and slip back into the quiet, darkened room, but she steeled herself. “I was beginning to grow concerned- you’d been asleep for so long-”

“Quinn said you were sucking down toxic smoke for fun,” Vette said, interrupting her lover. “Gotta say, Tahrin, you do some weird things for fun.”

On the opposite side of the room, Quinn was seated in front of one of the computer terminals, cleverly positioned close to the med bay without it seeming obvious. From what she could see, it looked like he was running systems diagnostics on the ship anyway- regardless of the fact that they’d eventually determined there was nothing wrong with the computers, he’d apparently decided to amuse himself with defragmenting the database anyway.

"I said nothing of the sort," he said mildly, coming to his feet at her reappearance and wandering over to her side. She anticipated the scan even before he activated his wrist analyser, and stood patiently while he assessed her. "Vette has succumbed to her propensity for exaggeration once again."

"Just because you're using big words doesn't mean I don't know that you're calling me a smart ass," Vette called; Tahrin heard Jaesa giggle and glanced over to see her apprentice gazing down adoringly at the woman in her lap.

Feeling awkwardly out of place at the open display of affection, she looked away just as quickly.

"You're stable, my lord," Quinn said, switching off the scanner. "You've improved remarkably since the incident this afternoon- you're well on track for a full recovery within a day or two."

"Some good news for once," she said, moving past him to stand before the holocommunicator. "Any word on Vowrawn?"

"According to the deep chatter, still in hiding," Quinn replied. "We have not had reports of any more assassins yet."

She rubbed absently at her stomach. "And the lieutenant?"

"The assault on the Bastion has been vastly successful so far, according to official channels, but the forward ops team is reported to be entrenched in some of the inner halls trying to break through the last lines of resistance. Even pessimistic reports expect the Bastion to be in Imperial control by tomorrow morning at the latest."

She nodded, preoccupied; there was far too much to consider right now, far too much at stake. She did not have the luxury of sequestering herself away to see a pregnancy through in safety- she had to stop Baras, and she had to do it quickly. This confrontation had dragged on for far too long.

She could feel her skin prickling, and she glanced up quickly to find Jaesa watching her closely. Her throat closed over in a panic when she realised she had forgotten to factor in her apprentice's peculiar gift. 

Clearing her throat, she straightened stiffly. "If there are no objections, I believe I'll ask 2V to see to supper; I would appreciate an early night."

"Already seen to, master," the droid said excitedly, tottering quickly into the room. "The captain requested I prepare a meal early, on your behalf. I'm thrilled to know my preparations will benefit you immediately."

She glanced at Quinn, and the corner of his mouth tugged as if he was fighting off a smile. "Very good, thank you 2V," she said, holding her head high as she headed for the dining room. There was an uneasy feeling sitting under her skin, something she couldn't quite give a name to. If pressed, she would have said she resented the implication that she needed to be coddled, but she couldn't say whether she was overreacting to Quinn's gestures or not.

"I've followed the captain's dietary recommendations to the letter, master," 2V said cheerfully as he followed her into the room. "I'm certain you'll find my adjustments both nutritious and appetizing."

Tahrin stopped at the table, her fingers threatening to curl into fists against her palms. "Dietary requirements," she said bluntly, not looking at either of them. "Please go on."

"Captain Quinn advised me of some potential changes to your nutritional intake that will maximise your strength and good health. Naturally, I was delighted to adjust my menus accordingly."

She turned, staring at Quinn as he waited in the doorway, his expression placid and his hands clasped behind his back. “ _Dietary requirements_ ,” she repeated, anger creeping into her voice at last.

He brushed past her on the way to his own seat at the table. “It doesn’t count as telling,” he murmured, for her ears only. Jaesa and Vette wandered in behind them, with Jaesa casting furtive glances her way before settling in for the meal.

They passed the time with idle conversation, with Vette regaling them with tales of their exploits that day- she made it sound so much larger than life, rescuing orphans and pretty damsels while Jaesa rolled her eyes good naturedly and interjected occasionally with more probable versions of events. The affectionate rapport between the two women was so very tangible, so much so that it seemed like the two of them had been fighting together and living together and loving one another much longer than the six months she assumed it had been. 

The goofy way that they smiled at one another, eyes bright and happy, made Tahrin feel as if she was intruding on a private moment. The love that they shared was so very open; the days of cautioning Jaesa to temper her feelings seemed very distant indeed right now. 

“Master?”

Tahrin shook herself, annoyed to find her concentration had drifted. Jaesa was staring at her, a small furrow between her brows and a quizzical look in her eyes. Tahrin ignored her, reaching for her wine glass out of habit and scowling when she remembered it was not there. 

2V noticed immediately. “Can I offer you a refreshing beverage, master?” the droid said eagerly, trundling forward with the tray laden with drinks. “I have prepared a variety for your convenience-”

“Just water,” Quinn said sharply, from across the table; when Tahrin threw him a pained look he stared back pointedly. “It will aggravate your condition, my lord,” he said politely, but loudly. If he hoped to give the game away, he was well on his way to doing just that. “You need time to recover from the incident today.”

“She only inhaled some smoke,” Vette scoffed, all but climbing over the table to pluck one of the more colourful drinks from the tray. “It’s hardly gonna kill her.”

“Still,” Quinn said, sounding as if he was speaking from between gritted teeth, “as the ship physician, I must insist that you refrain from imbibing alcohol in your current state.”

She stared at him. “Really?” she snapped in frustration, annoyed not only that he would fuss so openly, but that he would do so in front of the rest of the crew, after she had specifically ordered him to silence.

“Yes, really,” he responded, as if he was speaking to a petulant child. “I would recommend you limit your intake to filtered or vitamin water, until further notice.”

Frustration bubbling within her, Tahrin snatched at the glass of water on the proffered tray. “If you have suggestions in regards to my health and well being, captain, I’d appreciate it if you’d restrain yourself long enough to speak to me in-”

There was no denying the moment when Jaesa finally puzzled out the mystery; Tahrin felt a surge of joy from her apprentice, a blast of sheer astonishment and delight that seared through the connection they had to one another through the Force. The wave of emotions was far more than what Tahrin was used to, and it startled her so badly that she spilled her drink across her lap as she lurched to her feet in alarm, her words dying on her lips. 

Jaesa had apparently gasped- though Tahrin had not heard her- for the sound had drawn the attention of both Vette and Quinn. The former was staring at her lover in confusion, eyes quizzical with a silent question, while Quinn had immediately leapt to his feet as if anticipating the need to intercept her. 

“Master?” Jaesa said incredulously, coming slowly to her feet, a look of unadulterated joy in her eyes. “Are-”

“If you value your good health, you will _not_ finish that question, apprentice,” Tahrin snarled, anger and panic colliding violently within her; the glass in her hand shattered, and she cursed and clutched her now bleeding palm to her chest. 

“My lord,” Quinn was heading around the table for her, his brows furrowed in concern. “Your hand-”

“What is going on?” Vette asked, looking between the three of them with an expression on her face that seemed to suggest she didn’t know whether to laugh or be alarmed. She propped her feet up on the table. “There some big secret I’m not in on?”

Quinn had not so subtly inserted himself between Tahrin and her overeager apprentice, blocking her from attempting to get any closer. “Jaesa, your input is not appreciated at this moment-”

Jaesa actually gasped. “Captain, you _know?_ ”

“Know what?” Vette said, louder this time and with more than a hint of annoyance in her voice. “What’s going-”

“That is _enough!_ ” Tahrin’s voice echoed with the darkness of the Force, a deep and terrifying roar that silenced the three of them immediately. “I will not tolerate idle gossip and chatter on this ship, and certainly not at my expense.”

“My lord,” Quinn said quickly, barely batting an eyelid at the fury pulsing from her, “your hand needs-”

“My needs are no concern of yours, captain,” she snapped, her teeth bared in a snarl and her chest heaving from the pain and the panic. The way they all stared at her, a mixture of pity and confusion and fear, only made the anger burn brighter in her. 

She would be pitied by _no one_.

Without another word she spun on her heel and stalked from the room, ignoring Quinn as he called after her. There were only so many places on the ship where she could go, and her quarters were the one place they would not dare to trespass; even Pierce knew he did not have an open invitation to her room.

The door slid open at a gesture from her, and she stormed inside, furiously dashing away the tears that fell, heaving and seething with anger and dread and frenzied dismay that threatened to overwhelm her. 

She could feel the tension coiling around her, wrapping around her chest and constricting tighter with every breath she took. She needed calm, she needed control, she needed to get this wretched emotional minefield out of her head and heart, but the cool and the quiet that she needed was nowhere to be found.

Just pain, and panic, and a wretched pathetic desire to have Pierce here beside her. 

Her attempts at mediation came to naught, and she actually laughed at herself through her tears, furious at herself for her weakness and lack of control. What was she, if she did not have control? She was simply a slave to her emotions like any other sith, a creature of slavering desires and angers- and all this simply from the fact that she could not bring herself to admit to vulnerability in front of the few people who she should have felt safe being vulnerable around. 

She had never been so conflicted by the presence of others in her life. 

Her heart was pounding too fiercely in her chest, and try as she might she could not stop herself from crying; admitting defeat hurt her more than she wanted it to, but she had no strength for anything else. She crawled onto her bed, foolishly mournful that Pierce was not there to join her, and she hugged a pillow to her stomach as she cried, uncaring of the way her bloodied hand stained the fabric. 

It took them longer than she had expected- when the knock sounded quietly at her door some time later, she had to admit she was surprised. She’d figured their patience to have run out far sooner than it eventually did. 

She swallowed a few times and tried to dredge up the strength to answer, but she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to send them away or allow them entry. As it was, it was not a decision she had to make, because after a moment’s hesitation she heard the door slide open and she could feel the subtle flare at the edge of her awareness that signified the approach of her apprentice. 

“Master?” Jaesa’s voice was soft, and tentative. 

Tahrin kept her back to the door. “What do you want?” she asked, wincing at how weak her voice sounded. 

“We just wanted to check on you,” she replied, and Tahrin could hear their footsteps as they crept cautiously to the side of the bed. “I could feel... we wanted to see if you needed assistance- you seemed to be in such pain.”

“My distress is purely-”

“Emotional pain is still pain, Tahrin,” Vette said; Tahrin felt the mattress shift once, and then twice, as the two of them sat on the far edge. “And it’s just as detrimental to your health to ignore it. Additionally, you stabbed your hand- not the smartest thing you've done recently.”

Tahrin hugged the pillow tighter to her stomach. “When I require the assistance of a medical professional, I will be sure to seek it,” she rasped. “In the meantime, your interference is unwanted, no matter how well-intentioned.”

Her words caused an awkward silence to settle over the room, not that it bothered her- if the women were uncomfortable, they’d be more likely to leave her alone.

She could only hope.

“So, Pierce knocked you up,” Vette said conversationally; Tahrin immediately heard the sharp sound of skin striking skin, and heard Vette mutter ‘ _ow_ ’ under her breath.

“What Vette _meant_ to say, master, is that we just wanted to see how you were taking the news,” Jaesa said; Tahrin finally relented and rolled onto her back, amused at least to see Vette sulking as she rubbed at her arm where Jaesa had apparently slapped her for her impertinence. “You seemed unnecessarily stressed.”

Tahrin made a disbelieving noise. “Unnecessarily stressed?” she asked incredulously. “Tell me, apprentice, how should I have reacted to the news? At a time when I am beset on all sides, hunted by assassins and at risk even from those around me, how should I have responded to the revelation that I am now burdened with an immense physical impediment?”

“Do you really think of it as nothing more than a physical impediment?” Jaesa asked quietly. “No joy, no excitement, just annoyance?”

She closed her eyes as she felt the familiar burn of tears. “Tell me how you think you would respond, were you in my situation,” she whispered. 

“I couldn’t say,” Jaesa said honestly. “But you’re clearly frightened- it burns bright within you, the strongest sense of you I’ve ever had. What is it about this that rouses such pain and fear in you?”

Tahrin couldn’t really deny Jaesa’s perceptiveness, nor could she fault her analysis of the situation. “I had never thought of myself as...” She swallowed several times, furious at herself for being burdened by tears. “A bringer of life, shall we say.”

She didn’t have to have her eyes open to know that the two women shared a glance. “The word you’re looking for is _mother_ , dearest,” Vette said, her tone encouragingly soft. 

“That may be the word appropriate for most circumstances, but believe me when I say I have no familiarity with the vast sociological implications of the word.” She dashed the tears away quickly with the back of her hand. “Motherhood is not a subject in which I have even the slightest idea where to begin.”

“Well, let’s go back a step,” Jaesa said, adjusting her seat to sit cross legged on the bed. “You used the phrase ‘ _bringer of life_ ’- if we take away the knowledge of your, ah, condition, there are any number of situations I can think of where you would justifiably be a bringer of life. Vette and myself, for starters.”

“She’s right,” Vette said, leaning back on her elbows. “Without you, stars only know what would have happened to me- left to rot in that cell back on Korriban, or used as a plaything for some creepy old sith dude.”

“You gave me new purpose, and you took care of my family,” Jaesa said.

“Oh, yeah, and my family too- we got my sister out of slavery, and we gave my mother the send off she deserved. You helped preserve a piece of twi’lek history, at no benefit to yourself.”

Tahrin glanced from one to the other, her frustration and misery for once plainly apparent on her face instead of carefully masked. “What you speak of are simply acts of compassion, usually driven by common sense,” she said. “For the most part they came at little expense to my own personal comfort and sense of self.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have the capacity for-”

“It also doesn’t mean that I do,” Tahrin interrupted, “regardless of your good opinion of me, I have no reason to believe I have the capacity for love or affection or kindness that is required of me as a mother.” 

“The thing is, if it’s hard, you’ve got a lot of people to fall back on,” Vette said gently. “You’re not alone anymore, Tahrin.”

Jaesa was nodding along enthusiastically, near to bursting from excitement. “And if it ever gets to much, we’re always here to help out, we can babysit and give you some space and some time to yourself and-”

She stopped instantly when Vette put her hand over hers, blushing and looking sheepish. “Baby steps, love,” Vette said. “Don’t overwhelm her.”

The comment, while intended to be comforting, still jarred at Tahrin badly. “All of which is redundant if I choose to take more sensible measures,” she said pointedly, drawing on the cold and the dark within her to make sure her voice did not wobble. “Which, given how critical my assignment is against Darth Baras, should really be the only option worth considering.”

Both women were silent, glancing at one another as if to communicate with one another with looks alone. Finally Vette spoke. “But is it the only option you’re considering, my lord?” she asked quietly. 

“It’s not that we would judge you for it,” Jaesa said quickly, almost babbling in her need to speak before Tahrin cut her off again. “You’re right, it makes the most sense of course, but it’s just-”

“You say ‘ _should be considering_ ’ as if you’re trying to talk yourself into it,” Vette finished. “Your health and your safety are important, but so’s your happiness. So, you know, if this was actually something you wanted...”

“We’d make it work,” Jaesa said softly. “We can stop Baras, and we can do it together.”

“Cause that’s what people do for the people they care about one another,” Vette said. “We’re a family now- an awkward one, sure, but we’re here for you through whatever you choose.”

Their declarations were made from a place of love, she knew, but that was a place she was not in any way familiar with. It was far more intimate and far more affectionate than she had any experience with, and instead of comfort it simply raised a panic in her.

She did not _want_ such affection- she had no idea what to do with it, and even less idea of how to reciprocate. 

“I would like to be alone now,” she said stiffly, rolling onto her side again and turning her back to them. Her abrupt deflection left the two women hovering awkwardly; she could sense their hesitation, and their hurt at her rebuffing their affectionate overtures. 

But after a moment she felt the mattress shift and ease back into place as they climbed silently to their feet; a heartbeat later and the door hissed quietly open.

“I am not like you,” she called abruptly, into the silence. She heard them hesitate in the doorway. “I cannot be... I am not an emotionally responsive person, and I never will be.”

“No one’s asking you to be, Tahrin,” Vette said softly. When she didn’t answer them, they lingered only a moment or two longer before removing themselves, the door sliding quietly closed behind them.

In the dark of the room, alone at last, Tahrin pressed a hand to her stomach once again and considered the life growing within her. 

_I do not know what you deserve_ , she thought, _but I am certain that it is probably not me_.


	3. Chapter 3

Tahrin had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was late- and that something was in her room with her. It was dark, the lights having dimmed in response to her falling asleep, but her skin crawled with the knowledge that she was not alone in the cabin. 

She steadied her breathing, careful not to let on that she was awake. Whoever, or whatever, it was had done an admirable job to get so close to her in the first place; it was an error on her part that she was about to rectify.

Baras had to have realised by now that Quinn had failed to stop her; had he taken more drastic measures and sent his assassins after her directly?

She focussed, eyes closed and muscles relaxed as she concentrated on the room. There was a presence near to the foot of her bed, a large lifeform brimming with hunger and the potential for violence. Her lightsabers were safely in their bracket on the far wall, and it barely took a thought from her to have them soaring through the air towards her, crackling to life with an ominous screech as she flipped herself up onto her knees-

-only to come face to face with Broonmark, the Talz crouching ominously at the edge of the bed, flinching backwards with a hiss at the unexpected light of her lightsabers. As he recoiled she saw his larger eyes snap closed, narrowing to angry slits as he backed away from the bright white light and further into the shadows. 

With a frustrated sigh, Tahrin deactivated the sabers just as the lights in the room began to glow softly. “Broonmark, you know I don’t allow others into my quarters,” she said, tossing the saber hilts onto the unused side of the bed. “This is an immense violation of my privacy- explain yourself.”

The talz seemed grumpy to have been discovered, rather than sheepish. _-We must defend sith clan-_ he growled, his whistles and clicks sounding more than a little sulky as he crept closer to the bed again. _-With the mate gone, sith clan is vulnerable. Sith clan must take care with the younglings-_

She groaned. “And you’ve taken it upon yourself to be an eight foot hairy nursemaid,” she muttered. “How did you even find out about... my condition? Did Quinn tell you?”

 _-We do not trust the dark haired one-_ he hissed. _-We would devour him if sith would allow it-_

“You cannot eat Quinn, Broonmark.”

_-He would not hesitate to give the order against you. Sith must strike against the weakness in the clan before it consumes the clan-_

“Quinn and I have resolved our differences, and he understands his place- unlike you, apparently.”

 _-We must defend sith clan from all threats, especially with younglings on the way. The younglings need a safe clan, to grow and hunt and play-_

She slumped back onto the pillow, relaxing now that the immediate threat was eased. “Broonmark, this is hardly an appropriate time for such a conversation.”

 _-We must protect sith clan-_ he hissed quietly, crouching at the end of the bed like some overgrown house cat. His claws pressed into the blankets, sharp enough to shred the fabric if he only applied the slightest pressure. _-We have pledged ourselves to the clan, and the younglings will need to be shown the taste of blood-_

She rubbed tiredly at her eyes. “It hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps human children should not really be consuming that much in the way of blood?” she asked, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “Surely in the last few months it’s come to your attention that we go to great pains to cook our food first?”

_-Not food. Blood. Blood of the weak, and blood of the enemies of sith clan. It will teach them strength-_

Tahrin cracked open an eye and glared at him. “You think that any child of mine would be in need of strength?”

_-All younglings start weak. It is the way of younglings. They need to grow and feast and be shown how to hunt. We will show them-_

She tugged the blankets higher, not quite tugging them over her head as she rolled onto her side. “I’m quite sure any hunting and feasting can wait until they’re a little older,” she said pointedly, “or at least until they’re _born_.”

He hissed, and she squawked in alarm as the mattress dipped heavily. She glared over her shoulder to find him looming close to her. _-We will defend sith clan-_ he said fiercely. _-Sith clan honours us by allowing us to serve. We will defend sith clan while younglings grow and while mate is away-_

“Oh, for-” She bit back the obscenity, surprised at how easily it had come to her, and struggled into a sitting position as the mattress lurched from his shifting weight. “One,” she said pointedly, glaring at him as she counted off on her fingers, “you do not presume to make decisions regarding my safety and wellbeing, certainly not at the expense of my personal boundaries. Two, you will not refer to Lieutenant Pierce as my _mate_ ever again, and three, if I decide to continue with this or any future pregnancies, the rearing of my children is my responsibility, not yours.”

Broonmark didn’t respond, but she saw the way the light glittered against his eyes even as he hissed softly, shifting restlessly on the mattress. _-We only wish to serve-_ he said, somewhat sulkily. 

She sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “How did you even know, Broonmark?” she asked tiredly. “Did you overhear the others talking?”

_-Yes, but we already knew. We did not realise that sith did not know. We would have-_

Her eyes snapped open. “Wait. You _knew_ I was pregnant?”

_-For some weeks. It is why we wish to devour the dark haired one. He risks the clan for ambition-_

Tahrin found rather abruptly that it was hard to breathe again; those bands of iron were wrapped intimately around her chest, constricting slowly. “You said younglings,” she said, horrified realisation creeping over her. “You used the plural.”

 _-We smell them. Sith has carried the scent of younglings for many weeks now-_

“More than one?”

_-Two. We smell two-_

She stared at the far wall, her hands slowly clenching into fists in the blankets. “You lie,” she said softly. “You risk my wrath, creature.”

_-We do not lie. We speak only truth. Sith has the scent of many younglings, not one. Different scents, very different. We do not mistake it-_

Two- the damnable creature was convinced she was pregnant with twins. 

She exhaled very slowly, struggling to draw air back into her lungs a moment later. “Broonmark,” she said quietly, her voice shaking, “I need you to leave, immediately.”

_-We will defend-_

“You will do _nothing_ without my explicit command!” she snarled, the abrupt force of her anger so intense that Broonmark was shoved backwards off the mattress and onto the floor. She climbed up onto her knees, chest heaving from the violence roaring to life in her. “And right now I am commanding you to leave!”

 _-Sith is alone, sith_ must _be defended from the dark haired one-_

He was so ridiculously petulantly stubborn in his need to watch over her that she would have considered it endearing were it not so infuriating. “He lives only at my discretion,” she said, “and beyond that you need not worry about him. If I require his death, I will be the one to hold the weapon that takes his life. And if you do not take heed of my commands and respect my need for space and privacy, you may very well find your damnably furry head in my sights as well.”

His eyes glittered malevolently in the dim light, grumpy as a child denied a toy- if the child happened to be eight feet tall and capable of tearing her head from her shoulders with scarcely any effort. But as she knelt on the edge of the bed, seething with her own anger and displeasure, Broonmark finally relented, hissing and whistling quietly under his breath as he crept backwards towards the door.

He lingered for a moment in the doorway, a dark shadow, before slipping out and away. 

It wasn’t until the door slid shut that she allowed herself to relax, trembling with the aftermath of the adrenalin rush. Staggering to her feet, her fingers were shaking badly as she activated the high security locks on the door, slumping against it in relief when she heard them engage. 

The metal of the door was cool, a welcome relief to the angry heat in her skin. 

Her hand slid back to her stomach for what felt like the millionth time that day. “If there are indeed two of you, your father and I are going to have _words_.”  
__________

It was late, late enough that her eyes ached from the lack of sleep, but Jaesa had reached the point where she knew laying beside Vette pretending to sleep was only making it worse. She could feel the beginnings of a headache building, and her frustration was only making her toss and turn more. When she grouchily rolled to her side for what felt like the millionth time and heard Vette murmur uncomfortably in her sleep, she gave up- she could either feel wretched all day by getting up and leaving Vette to rest, or she could feel wretched and guilty by staying and ruining her lover’s sleep. 

Not really the hardest decision ever.

Easing out the side of the bunk, she stretched blindly in the darkness until her toes finally touched the floor and she slithered down. The blanket tried to follow her, and she absently used the Force to settle it back over Vette. 

The ship was quiet, unsurprising given the hour, but she still felt the need to tiptoe from the room so as not to wake the others- although, with Pierce off on the Bastion raid and Broonmark more and more content to sleep in the cargo bay where it was colder, the only people she had to worry about waking were Vette and Captain Quinn. 

She didn’t really know what to do with herself to occupy the time- probably the best option would be to sit up in the cockpit and read a book while the stars drifted overhead. She felt a little too distracted and on edge to consider meditation, or practising her niman form.

Although maybe a little exercise would wear her out enough to let her sleep. 

At a loss, she wandered instead towards the galley, because regardless of what she eventually decided on she was going to do it with a snack. The tiny shipboard kitchen was not hugely expansive, because of all of them Vette was the only one who had any lengthy experience with cooking her own food. The space they had was big enough for 2V to potter around in and sing to himself as he lovingly crafted their meals, and that was all they needed. 

Tonight, however, she was not alone in choosing it as her first stop.

Captain Quinn was seated at the small bench in the tiny galley, a shot glass and a half empty bottle of dark amber liquid before him; his hair was wildly askew, as if he had spent the last few hours running his hands through it in distress, and like her he appeared to have come straight from bed. Seeing him barefoot and barechested was disorienting, such a huge contrast from his normal pristine appearance. 

More troubling than that, however, were the flares of angry guilt and misery bleeding off of him, far brighter and far sharper than she had ever felt from the normally reserved captain. 

He didn’t look up when she entered, but she saw his shoulders tense as he hunched against the bench. 

“Miss Willsaam,” he said, his tone pleasant enough if somewhat flat. “I did not expect anyone else to be awake at this hour.”

She hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to make of him in this state. “I think the events of the day make it a little too difficult to be contemplating sleep,” she said honestly, agonising over whether to apologize for the interruption and leave him to his brooding. But then she steeled herself; she owed him no apology. If anything, he owed her one, for his countless manipulations and last week’s betrayal. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He did not reply immediately as she brushed past him, the tiny galley not giving them a great deal of room to manoeuvre. In fact, Quinn remained silent the entire time that she ferreted through the freezer compartment, only speaking when she finally turned back to him with a tub of ice cream in her hands. “I would agree, yes,” he said, surprisingly lucid given the fact that he appeared to have been drinking for some time. “It has been... an unusual day, for certain.”

Setting the ice cream down, Jaesa heaved herself up onto the bench, legs dangling over the side as she leaned back against the cabinets and picked up the dessert tub. “You know, I was wondering,” she said conversationally, prying open the lid. “I find it intensely frustrating that you managed to conceal your intentions from me for all these months, but I have to commend you for it as well. How did you manage it for so long?”

She was watching him closely, and she saw the way his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled, frustration bleeding from him. “I am not proud of my actions these last few months, Miss Willsaam, and I would rather not-”

“Indulge me,” she said, a sharp edge to her tone. “I outrank you, after all, don’t I? That’s how these imperial hierarchies work, yes?”

The look in his eyes was flat, angry- but there was also a guarded respect, as if he hadn’t expected her to try and outstep him. “Indeed it is,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Even the most experienced imperial officer must always bend their knee to the whims of a sith.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she dug a spoon into the ice cream. “Do you consider my request for information about your betrayal to be a simple whim, captain?” she asked, a ruthlessly petty sense of triumph washing over her when she saw the way his jaw tightened. 

“My actions were set in motion as a contingency plan many months before I even met Lord Dara,” he said, holding the shot glass so tightly that his knuckles were white. “I was only ever to be a last resort, ergo my mind was not preoccupied constantly with preparations for the attack.”

“That’s it? You managed to hide it from me for over a year because you just didn’t _think_ about it?”

His lips twisted in an approximation of a smirk, but there was no humour behind it. “In all honesty, I’m surprised myself,” he said flatly. “But then, you have been rather distracted of late, haven’t you?”

Jaesa felt her cheeks go hot and despite her best attempts not to, she ducked her head in embarrassment. “Congratulations on using my burgeoning relationship to your personal advantage,” she said, stabbing the spoon violently into the ice cream. “Truly, well done. That must rank up there with attempting to murder a pregnant woman in your list of achievements.”

“If you think I am in any way proud of my actions over the last few months, you are grossly mistaken,” he snapped, his own face red with what she hoped was mortification. “I found myself between a rock and a hard place, and while I am not at all proud of the choices I made, the fact remains that- as a non Force user- self preservation led me to accept that the murder of a sith lord would not be as bad as incurring the wrath of a Dark Council member.”

“You should have believed in Tahrin,” she said, abruptly sad for him. “You should have trusted that she could help you.”

He threw back the shot of whiskey, slamming the glass down with more force than was necessary. “Allow me to educate you on a matter that all imperial citizens are well versed, and to which you have apparently remained blissfully unaware,” he said, his voice a little rough from the drink. There was a wobble to his words, and she didn’t know whether it was from the alcohol or some pent up emotion or both. “You do not _trust_ a sith. As a non Force user, you spend your life in a constant state of vigilance, aware of them and aware that at any given moment, they may decide that your life has value to them. And that value may be arbitrary- they may see you as a tool, they may see you as a plaything, they might see you as nothing more than an annoyance to be squashed beneath their heel.”

Jaesa was quiet as he poured yet another shot into the glass; she had to wonder how full the bottle had been when he had started.

“You spend your life doing your best to remain vigilant,” he continued, undeniable bitterness creeping into his voice. “To not attract their notice- but it is inevitable. So you endeavour to make yourself useful, to make yourself a tool- be something they cannot cope without, in whatever capacity that might be. Convince them that you have worth, and you will live to see another day.”

She swallowed back the unexpected wave of pity within her. “You do not have to be useful just to be worthy of life, captain,” she said softly. “You do not have to have any inherent value to anyone- you are your own man, and no one can take that away from you.”

He didn’t look at her as he answered. “Forgive me if I find your naivety asinine rather than endearing,” he said quietly, staring at the counter top.

There was such self loathing in him, so much anger and regret, that Jaesa felt her stomach twist up in agonised sympathy for him. He hid it remarkably well, even while drunk- really the only two people Jaesa had ever known who masked themselves better had been Tahrin, and her old master Noman. She scooted along the bench, until she was sitting close enough that her leg almost touched his arm. “Do you want some ice cream?” she asked, nudging the tub closer to him. “It’s really good for grumpy, middle of the night snacks.” 

“I’ve already indulged one sin tonight, Miss Willsaam,” he said, gesturing to the half empty bottle of whiskey. “I will not make it two.”

“See, there’s your problem,” she said, digging out a hefty spoonful of ice cream and wedging it into her mouth. “Anyone who thinks ice cream is a sin is desperately in need of some indulgence.”

His half smile was heartening. “I rather think I am the last person in need of indulgence,” he said, “and rather, much more in need of admonishment.”

She scowled, annoyed at having lost what progress she’d been making to pull him out of this rut. “What you fail to grasp, captain, is that Tahrin does not dwell on failure, nor does she require extensive bouts of your self flagellation."

“And what you fail to grasp, Miss Willsaam, is that Lord Dara is the exception, not the rule. Self preservation leads me to believe that the anger of a sith burns long, and their memories longer."

“Do you love her?” she asked quietly, setting the tub of ice cream down on the bench beside her.

He stared stone faced at the shot glass in his hand, but the subtle flare in his mood gave her the answer. “Love is not a word that is sensibly associated with Lord Dara,” he said slowly, tilting the glass so that the tiny amount of liquid rolled around. “Respect, awe, gratitude, fear- but not love. Never love." 

She mulled over the answer for a moment, surprised that he’d been even that open with her. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

“I did not.”

She watched him carefully. “Would you have still done it, if you’d known?”

“I believe our conversation has reached its natural conclusion,” he said, not even subtle in his attempt to ignore her question. He climbed to his feet, bumping her leg as he did so, and collected his half empty whisky bottle. “I bid you good evening, Miss Willsaam.”

"There is nothing to be gained from lying to me, Malavai," she called after him, his name somewhat awkward on her tongue.

"And there's nothing to be gained from being honest," he said, throwing his arms as wide as the tiny galley would allow. "Because, let us not forget, _you_ are _also_ sith, and common sense dictates I do my utmost to please and placate you. And that, my dear, includes lying."

She watched him critically. "You're drunk," she said bluntly.

"And you are naive," he retorted. "And if you don't mind, I believe I will find a private location to contemplate my immediate future. Good evening, Jaesa."

Saying that, he sketched a shallow bow in her direction, his eyes flat and angry, and turned and headed back down the hallway towards the cockpit. 

Jaesa watched him go, her heart conflicted. Suddenly eating half melted ice cream alone in the early hours of the morning didn't seem so appealing. 

She sighed, resting her head against the cabinets. "You'd better hurry up, Pierce," she muttered to the empty galley.


	4. Chapter 4

After a wretched night with little sleep and far too many bouts of weeping for her tastes, Tahrin found it easier to slip into her normal meditation routines come the morning; she attributed it to exhaustion rather than any skillful focus on her part. She’d been wrung out so thoroughly emotionally and mentally that she simply didn’t have the strength within her to continue being distressed.

She was numb, and she was exhausted, and more than anything she wanted to sleep for weeks and take a moment to rebuild the walls around her heart. Now more than ever she needed to focus, to control herself in the face of Baras’ relentless attacks and smear campaigns against her- she couldn’t afford the distraction this pregnancy provided. 

At some point, during the hour or so that she meditated, she rested her hand on her stomach, and as she focussed her powers and consolidated her strength anew, the small flicker of life within her pulsed in harmony with her own heartbeat. 

By the time she considered herself collected enough to face the day, Jaesa and Vette were nowhere to be found, and nor was Broonmark. 2V blathered on delightedly as she wandered from room to room, trailing after her like a smitten pup. 

She found Quinn in the cockpit, immaculately groomed as always- but she could immediately sense the disquiet within him. Even without the tension he carried, his bloodshot eyes were an instant giveaway that he had not enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep either. 

He didn’t look up at her entrance, but he nodded absently in her direction, eyes flickering over the numbers streaming past him on the console screen. “Good morning, my Lord,” he said, his voice rather rough. “I trust you had a restful night’s sleep?”

Tahrin grimaced and crossed her arms, leaning against the console. “Rather the opposite, captain,” she said, unsurprised to find her own voice similarly raw. “You do not appear to have benefitted from one either.”

“My own health is of no consequence, my Lord. I would have happily provided you with an appropriately tailored sedative to allow you to rest unimpeded if you had requested.”

She let her head come to rest against the wall. “I’m not going to wake you up simply to command you to drug me, captain,” she said wearily. 

He didn’t attempt to hide his grimace. “It would not be the strangest thing I have been asked to do,” he muttered.

An awkward silence settled over the cockpit; neither of them were inclined to small talk at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times. Clearing her throat, Tahrin asked “Have you seen the rest of the crew this morning?”

“Broonmark has not been aboard in the time that I have been awake, and I presume the creature is skulking nearby, as usual.” There was an edge to his tone. “Your protegé and her companion have taken it upon themselves to further liberate the embattled citizens of Corellia, and headed off some hours ago.” 

“Need I remind you who it is you speak to, captain? I don’t find your tone to be acceptable in addressing a superior.”

His face was pale, but his eyes were miserably angry. “Apologies, my Lord,” he said, the rhythm of his speech awkward. He climbed to his feet and went to move past her. “I shall beg your understanding- it was not an easy night, and I am evidently out of sorts. I shall-”

She put her hand out, fingers splayed against his chest to stop him from leaving. “You are clearly distressed, captain,” she said, satisfied to note the frustration in his eyes as he waited for her to allow him to pass. “And it leads me to question the reasons why, given how very eager you were to be out of my service a week ago.”

He exhaled noisily, nostrils flared. “My reasons are my own, my Lord-”

“Indulge me,” she said, her tone flat and not at all indulgent.

For a long moment she thought he meant to defy, and not answer, but she felt the moment he relented, the fight going out of him. “I could make appropriate justifications to myself when I deluded myself into thinking I was removing a threat to the stability of the empire,” he said stiffly, staring straight ahead. “I cannot justify or condone the murder of a pregnant woman, and the knowledge that I would have been party to such an act-”

Her fingers pressed a little harder into his chest, the tips digging in as if she meant to curl them like claws. “So only the fact that I am with child rouses a sense of guilt within you?”

“Your death would have haunted me until my dying day,” he said instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. “That does not mean I would not have followed the course of action I believed to be most appropriate given the situation.”

Tahrin stared at him, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but he only stared ahead, his features as still as if they’d been carved from stone. “Broonmark believes that I carry two children,” she said, her fingertips still buried like talons in the fabric of his flawlessly pressed dress uniform. “Your thoughts, captain?”

He still didn’t glance sideways at her, but she saw the nervous tic beneath his right eye. “It is a possibility,” he said, “although I would question your common sense in allowing that creature near to you in your current state.”

“Broonmark has neither betrayed me nor tried to murder me in the last week,” she said bluntly. “I think my judgement is quite sound, thank you captain.”

Quinn nodded his head sharply, still avoiding her gaze. “Very well. I had planned to hold off on any more complex medical examinations until we could procure more appropriate supplies, but if it is your command-”

“It is.”

“Then it shall be done,” he said blandly, politely. “If you would be so kind as to allow me to pass, we can vacate to the med bay and find an answer for you. 

She followed him from the room, watching him closely for signs to imply his careful mask was fracturing, that the pressure of her perusal was too much for him. 

“If you would make yourself comfortable,” he said, indicating she take a place on one of the beds yet again, “we will begin in a moment.”

She climbed up onto the closest table and lay back, watching him assemble the things he would need. “I am curious, captain,” she said, “what precisely the depths your deception ran to. Had you planned to seduce me, for example, and gain my trust as a bedmate?”

His eyes closed for a moment, and he looked as if he wished to be anywhere in the galaxy but alone in the room with her. "It was an eventuality I had considered," he said quietly after a moment’s pause, continuing with the prep. 

"And your admitted emotional attachment?"

His face was set to a cold professional mask as he stopped beside the bed, gesturing for her to roll her tunic up to expose her lower torso. "That was not an eventuality I had considered," he said, his tone emotionless.

She considered him for a moment, trying to get a read on him as he applied a line of cold gel to her stomach and pressed a small handheld scanner firmly to the skin. But his control was admirable, his hold on his mask in such a volatile situation something to be applauded; certainly she wished she could have kept a lid on the worst of her emotional distress these last twenty four hours. 

“You were correct,” he said abruptly, knocking her from her silent contemplations. “There are indeed two heartbeats. Congratulations, my Lord- you are carrying twins.”

The news lacked the same impact that the initial reveal had yesterday, and she simply nodded in acknowledgement. Quinn glanced towards her, not quite making eye contact, but enough to confirm that she’d accepted the information. He set down the scanner and made a discreet effort to remove the majority of the gel from her skin before clearly losing his nerve and removing himself to the far side of the med bay, making a show of inputting the data into the shipboard computer. 

Tahrin sat up slowly, easing the tunic back down over her stomach as she climbed down from the bed. Quinn still wouldn’t look at her, very deliberately staring down at the screen before him.

And it _hurt_.

“I would have given you the world, had you but asked me,” she said softly, her fists clenched at her sides to stop herself from lashing out. “You and Vette were the first people to offer me kindness and respect, _ever_ , and for that I would have fought for you. You had only to let me know, and I-”

She swallowed back tears, unnerved by his silence and furious with herself for her weakness in front of a man who had so recently gloated before her as he announced her imminent death. 

“I am sorry you felt you could not trust me, Malavai,” she said finally. “I am sorry we were both wrong about one another.”

If he had an answer for her, she didn’t wait to hear it; she walked from the room with her head held high, and it was only once she was around the corner and out of sight of him that she allowed herself to acknowledge the tears, wiping them away quickly and steeling herself before more could fall. 

For lack of anything better to do, she found one of Vette’s novellas on the chairs in the main room and stretched out across them, her back to the med bay door as she settled in and tried to read the inane fiction. 

All she wanted was to lose herself for a time- to escape this wretched emotional state she seemed to be trapped in and centre herself again. Instead, a combination of Vette’s book and her own emotional exhaustion quickly sent her to sleep, laying across the chairs in place of a bed.

When she woke, the book had been moved to the empty seat beside her, and a blanket had been placed carefully over her. She could not see Quinn in the main room, but she did not have to question who had taken pains to see her comfortable. 

It was not an apology- she doubted there was anything he could say or do that would ever cover the immensity of the breach between them- but it was a clear gesture with a clear message.

She sighed sadly, and picked up the book again.

________

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Pierce swagger into the room, his armour burnt with fresh laser fire and his face smeared with soot and sweat and blood. He had the most magnificent grin on his face, a gloriously triumphant and gleeful expression that sent a small shiver of heat through her in response. 

He was so much larger than life, vibrant and loud and crass- if she had ever allowed herself to entertain the thought of trying to engage in some sort of mutually beneficial relationship, she would never in a million years have envisioned a man like Pierce being the best fit for her. 

But his exuberance did not intrude on her quietude, and his presence brought her clarity, not distraction. 

She did not pretend to understand it, but she was grateful for him.

He struck a heroic pose, arms spread wide. “The hero of the hour returns victorious,” he said, his voice booming in the confined space of the ship. Even hearing his voice made her heart lurch a little in her chest, the pent up desperation at having missed him close to bubbling over. “The Bastion, pride of the Republic, is in imperial hands- and it’s all thanks to yours truly.”

She set her book down on her lap. “Congratulations are in order, lieutenant,” she said. “You’ve struck a critical blow against the Republic, and improved our public image immensely. Darth Baras will have a hard time garnering support against us with such a triumph to our name.”

Pierce hefted a heavy looking black bag higher on his shoulder as he took a few more steps into the room, a mischievous grin on his face that made her want to smile in return. “Anyone else here?” he asked.

“At present, it is only myself and the captain.”

The immediate look of disgust on his face said it all. “Anyone worth mentioning?” he corrected.

“Charming,” said Quinn, appearing in the door to the cockpit with a datapad in hand. “I presume congratulations are in order, by the sounds of it?”

Pierce threw a pained look in Tahrin’s direction. “He’s talking to me,” he said flatly. “What’s he even doing here, with you all on your lonesome?”

Quinn bristled. “I assure you, Lord Dara is quite safe with me. I have ensured she has received nothing but the most extensive medical care and assistance.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t so big a man that I’m gonna just let go of your bullshit like it weren’t nothing,” Pierce growled, tossing the burgeoning black bag against the wall. A handful of ammo casings fell out of the half open zip and onto the floor. “The only reason I ain’t pressed a gun to your chin and blown your scheming fucking brains all over the wall is cause she asked me not to- and I respect her more’n I hate you.”

“How lucky for me,” Quinn said with a sneer. He turned back to Tahrin. “With your permission, my Lord, I believe I will occupy myself by running a manual inventory check on our supplies in the cargo hold- that should see me sufficiently out from under foot for the next few hours.”

“Of course, captain,” she said, swallowing back the wave of nerves within her. 

Pierce made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Run along, Quinny boy,” he said, gleefully smug at the way Quinn stiffened at the insult. The captain did not rise to the bait, instead bowing quickly to Tahrin and stalking past Pierce towards the bowels of the ship.

“Were nothing,” she said quietly, once Quinn was gone from the room.

“Eh?” he said, turning back to her with tension still tight along his shoulders.

“Were nothing,” she repeated, swinging her feet from the chair and sitting upright to face him. “You said _weren’t_ nothing- grammatically, you should have said-”

His snort of laughter cut her off. “I’m glad to see you too,” he said bluntly, swaggering over to stand before her, the anger bleeding slowly from him and his expression growing relaxed when she reached a hand up to touch him; he took her hand in his, dropping one knee onto the chair beside her and leaning in to kiss her. 

He tasted of smoke, acrid and sharply bitter- she had grown used to the scent of cigars on his lips, but this was the taste of death and war. She had not wanted to admit how badly she had missed him, and she leaned into the kiss, her fingers tightening as they twined through his. Her other hand slid up from his chest to his neck, pulling him closer as she tried to lose herself in the scent of him. 

He pulled away, just enough for him to catch his breath, but she didn’t let him go far; she rested her forehead against his, her hand on the back of his neck keeping him very firmly in place. 

“Well now,” he said roughly, a chuckle rumbling through him, “that’s a hello I could get used to.”

She was horrified to find herself trembling, and despite her best efforts she couldn’t rein herself in. “I... missed you,” she said awkwardly, her voice raspy with pent up emotion. “Our time apart was not easy for me.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, his skin remarkably warm as always; the callouses on his palm were rough against her face, and she pressed herself against him, trying to imprint the essence of him onto her. 

“So, would it be better for me to play dumb and pretend nothing’s up, or is it safe for me to ask?”

Her lips twisted unhappily and she tried to hide her face in his hand. “What makes you presume something is wrong?” she asked, the salt of the sweat on his skin tingling on her lips. “Can I not simply be relieved to see you victorious and safely returned to me?”

His laughter soothed her. “One, I can’t bloody well think of a time when you were so glad to see me that you wanted to climb inside my damn skin,” he said, his thumb stroking across her cheek softly. “I figure it’s an elaborate day when you use my first name- whatever the hell this is is unprecedented.”

Despite the anguish rolling around inside of her, she smiled slightly, hiding the gesture in his palm. “Are you alarmed that you do not find my behaviour predictable, Gabriel?”

“Mm,” he said, a noncommittal sound that told her nothing. “I’d be less worried if it weren’t preceded by Quinn being polite. Your dear captain is usually more inclined to look like I’m something unpleasant he stepped in.”

She had never been fond of lingering pain- her years in the facility had taught her that a quick, sharp blow was far more bearable than a slow ache that was allowed to build and grow. To that end, she sat back, disentangling herself from him and sitting up straight. She would not beg, she would not grovel- if nothing else, she had her pride and regardless of how Pierce took the news, she would come out of this defiant. 

She folded her hands together in her lap so that she would not twist her fingers together anxiously. “There is no easy way to say this, Gabriel, and I apologise for that,” she said, awkwardly parroting Quinn’s very words to her yesterday. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “That so?” he said, his tone cautiously curious. “Well, let’s have it then. It’s cruel to keep a man in suspense.”

Tahrin took a deep breath. “Gabriel, I-” She swallowed, struggling to convince herself to voice the words. “I am pregnant.”

For a moment her words hung in the air between them, just as sharp and painful as she had anticipated. She watched his reaction, watched the change of emotions ripple over his face as if it were occurring in slow motion- the trepidation that gave way to confusion as she spoke, the way the confusion morphed quickly into surprise, his eyes widening. The unmistakable flicker of panic, the shock that settled into a rather dazed expression.

“That’s...” He appeared to visibly struggle for words. “Huh.”

“Interestingly, that’s precisely what Quinn said when he found out.”

Pierce gave her a withering look. “You gotta give me a little more credit than Quinny boy,” he said, his voice strained. “Not like it’s his balls on the line.”

“Surprisingly, Gabriel, I have no quarrel with your testicles, so you can set your mind at ease that they are not under threat in any way.”

His laughter was forced, but his shoulders slumped with relief. “You’ve got a smart mouth sometimes, love,” he said. He fell silent for a moment, and she could almost hear his thought processes, he was concentrating so fiercely. “So,” he said, voice rough. “Pregnant.”

“That is what I said.”

“With a baby.”

“Actually, preliminary scans seem to indicate two.”

He quite visibly paled. “Babies,” he said. “Yeah, you were right- ain’t no easy way to say that to someone.”

For a few long moments, he struggled; she could tell he had about as much of a coping mechanism for this situation as she did, which was to say not a great deal at all. His response, when it came, was not what she had been anticipating- he all but lunged for her, crushing his mouth to hers and kissing her with a desperate ferocity that surprised her. He had one hand beneath the curve of her thigh, pulling her to the edge of the seat as the other arm went around her, pinning her closely to him as he kissed her urgently. 

He was trembling when he finally eased his grasp on her, panting softly as he rested his forehead against hers. 

She licked her lips, still stinging from the kiss. “Gabriel?” she whispered. 

He shuddered, and his eyes opened; there was a sense of raw vulnerability there in his gaze as he stared at her, their noses brushing together, and the fact that he was struggling with the emotional immensity of the news heartened her slightly. She did not feel like such a failure, knowing that he was grappling for control just as she had. 

She could see the moment he came to some sort of decision, determination appearing in his eyes. His heart was still racing, and he hadn’t quite settled his breathing, but he had an air of stubbornness to him that had not been there a moment earlier. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked carefully, sliding into the seat beside her and slipping his arm around her, tugging her up against his chest. “You doing okay?”

She reclined against him, revelling in the warmth of him and the fact that she simply felt safe with him beside her again. “Are you asking if I am in sufficient physical health or are you asking how I am adapting to the shock or are you asking-”

“ _Anything_ , sweetheart, just _talk_ to me- tell me what you had for breakfast if that’s what you wanna talk about.” 

She reached up behind her and touched a hand to his face. “You appear to be unduly stressed, Gabriel,” she said. “If you are afraid of my reaction, or concerned I will lash out at you in anger-”

His laughter was pained. “Can’t say it hadn’t crossed my mind,” he said honestly. “Gotta say, this has to be one of the dumber things I’ve done in my life.”

Tahrin glanced upwards, catching his gaze. “Engaging in a dalliance with a sith?” she asked, unable to keep the disappointment from her tone. For some reason, she’d hoped that in the pressure of the moment, Pierce would stand strong; instead she’d left herself open for the hurt his confession had caused her. 

Foolish, really.

He nuzzled at the top of her head, the gesture surprisingly affectionate- even more surprisingly, she found she didn’t really mind it. “You always gotta make it sound so damn scandalous,” he muttered. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were reading Vette’s books too.”

She smiled faintly. “They don’t make any sense,” she said, trying to hide her hurt. 

“They make enough sense if you’re looking for a fun read,” he said, “and no, love, I don’t mean I feel dumb for _dallying with a sith_ , whatever the hell you think that means. I feel like a right royal idiot because I thought with my cock instead of my head and it’s... well, if I’m honest it’s put you in danger. Not really thrilled with myself for that.”

The rush of relief she felt at his reassurance was unprecedented. “Oh,” she said simply, dropping his gaze and ducking under his chin so that he couldn’t make eye contact again. She felt vulnerable, frustrated at herself for the moment of transparency that he’d picked up on so easily. 

“As if I’d feel dumb about you, love,” he said fiercely. “You keep looking for reasons for me to want to leave, it’s just gonna make me want to stay a little longer, okay?”

She swallowed, annoyed to find herself burdened with the onset of tears so quickly. “What reason has a man to stay, when he cannot even procure a profession of love?”

“What, I have to have a reason now? Should I get Quinny boy to help me write it up in a report, twelve point font, double spacing? Do I need character references too?” 

She buried her face in his chest, desperate not to show him the tears. “They will say that I trapped you,” she said, the words stilted as she forced them out, determined not to babble and beg. “They will say that I used you for breeding, nothing else.”

“Mmm, and you can bet those same assholes’ll say I’m using you as a career boost, or I’m a bloody social climber, or some other bullshit- whoever _they_ are. Tahrin, sweetheart-” When he coaxed her upwards, hands firm but gentle on her body, she let him guide her, climbing up his broad chest to where he was waiting for her with desperate kisses and soft, encouraging words.

It was quite impossible to hold back her tears in a moment like that, with his own fears simmering so close to the surface that she could taste them, and yet he found the strength to whisper violent promises to her. There were no offers of unending love, no sappy declarations of romance and affection- but he kissed her as she cried, and offered death and protection, and that meant far more to her than a promise of love ever could.

Love, after all, was not something she put any faith into, but a mutual promise of trust? That she could respect. 

“I can’t do this,” she choked, the words like hiccups between the tears. “Gabriel, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

He ran a hand up and down her back, in an attempt to soothe her. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “Way I see it, you got two options- either you go through with this, or you don’t. Anything more complicated than that can come later.” 

“You have no preference?”

“What good does it do anything for me to have a damned preference? I’m not the one risking my life, Tahrin. It ain’t my choice to make.”

“It’s not a choice I want to make either.”

Pierce laughed at that. “Well, ignoring the problem is certainly one way of making a choice,” he said pointedly. “Although then you end up with a handful of tiny Piercelings.”

“I am quite certain that 2V would be better equipped to handle children than I am,” she whispered, attempting a tearful smile and failing miserably. 

He chuckled, and smoothed her hair back, pressing a kiss to her bared forehead. “The droid can have some sorta parental operating systems installed,” he said pointedly, “so yeah, it can pick up the kid thing a whole lot faster than any of us can. That’s not to say that you won’t be able to manage it if you wanted to.”

“I am glad that one of us has faith in my abilities,” she said, hiding her face in his chest, in the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him. 

“I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t believe you were capable of everything,” he said. “Fairly certain that if you put your mind to it, you could change the direction the stars turn.”

She groaned, pressing her face firmly against his chest. “Such a feat is not only impossible but also impractical; additionally, if you intend such a platitude to be endearing, I must point out-”

“Fucking stars, can’t even give a pretty girl a compliment without needing a ten page fucking cited essay with references, can I?”

She smiled, tilting her chin to catch his gaze. “If it makes you happy, you may offer me such compliments,” she said. “I can’t promise I’ll understand them, but you’ve certainly made enough concessions for my sake- I can accept your peculiar need for silliness.”

“So generous of you, m’Lord,” he said with a good humoured chuckle. 

They lapsed into silence again, and she lay quietly on his chest, his heart beat a comforting thud against her cheek.” Gabriel?” she murmured after several minutes.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m frightened.”

“That makes two of us, love.”

__________

There was a thud, and Quinn jerked awake; he blinked into the darkness of the crew quarters before scowling as he heard the muffled cursing coming through the wall from the med bay. Swinging himself out of his bunk, he refrained from muttering obscenities under his breath as he stalked from the room and towards the source of the disturbance. 

It was Pierce- of course it was Pierce, the philistine, making noise enough to wake the whole damnable ship and merrily destroying the med bay in the process. He’d pulled open one of the storage cabinets and had torn a good half of their supplies from the shelves in his quest for whatever it was he’d wanted.

The man was nothing more than an animal.

“What are you doing?” he asked flatly, gritting his teeth in immense frustration at the mess scattered across the bench. 

“None of your business, thanks, captain,” Pierce said, squeezing a tube of bacta salve in his meaty fist and smearing it liberally over a painful looking burn on his upper arm and shoulder. 

Quinn cast him a withering look, stalking into the room and snatching the salve from him, unable to keep the look of distaste from his face as he smoothed it out over the extent of the burn. “Did you actually stop to attend a debriefing or post op medical at all, or did you run straight home like a mongrel looking to rut against his master’s leg?”

To his surprise, the lieutenant laughed, though there was little humour in the sound; he didn’t stop him from his medical ministrations, however. “Ahh, Quinny boy, so full of piss and vinegar now that you know I can’t kill you,” he said, his words laced with a silken threat. “Hiding under her skirts and hoping she won’t notice you got a dagger held at her back.”

“As I have already stated, Lord Dara has nothing to fear from me. My loyalties are unwavering.”

“Yeah, and I believe that like a hole in the head.”

“Eloquent as always, lieutenant,” he snapped, clicking the seal back onto the gel tube. “That should suffice for the rest of the night.”

Pierce flexed quite obviously, rolling his shoulders back. “Much obliged, captain,” he said, no hint of thanks in his tone. “I’ll be sure to call next time I need someone to give me back a good rub.”

The frustration that had been bubbling up in him since his confrontation with Jaesa last night grew closer to simmering over. “Short of whatever interaction Lord Dara requires the two of us to engage in, you can rest assured that I will never willingly spend time with you,” he said sharply. "So please set your mind at ease now- I will not have anything to do with you unless our Lord demands it."

"Anyone would think you had a problem with me, with a tirade like that.”

“That is barely a fraction of my disdain for you, lieutenant. I find you to be brutish, uncouth and disrespectful, a savage only scarcely more intelligent than a wild beast, incapable of following the chain of command.”

Pierce smiled nastily, crossing his arms across his massive chest. “No, no, captain, I insist- tell me what you _really_ think of me.”

Quinn smiled thinly at him, no warmth in his eyes. “However, despite all of your failings, I am inestimably grateful for the support you have given to Lord Dara in this trying time.” He paused for a moment, and his smile was a little more honest when he next spoke. “In a way, I am glad she chose you.”

“You never deserved her,” Pierce said instantly, his tone deadly serious and the smirk gone from his face. 

“That I most certainly did not,” Quinn said ruefully. “But if you touch my medical supplies again, I will risk her wrath.”

“You even look sideways at her again, you won’t have time to worry about _her_ wrath,” Pierce countered.

Quinn paused for a long moment and then nodded sharply. “Duly noted,” he said. “Has she-”

“She’s sleeping on it,” Pierce said bluntly. “Beyond that, I dunno. It’s her choice, not mine.”

“You have so little regard for the fate of your children?”

Pierce made a rude scoffing noise, rolling his eyes. “They ain’t kids yet, so don’t give me that bullshit,” he said. “If she wants ‘em, I want ‘em. If not, so what- had a lot of fun making ‘em by accident, I’ll have a lot of fun practising for when she does want ‘em for real.”

“And you once again prove me correct in my estimation of you as nothing other than a crude oaf, because I hardly think that Lord Dara appreciates you boasting so casually about your sexual relations with her.”

“Maybe I’m just feeling a bit petty tonight,” he snarled in answer. “Maybe I just think it’s real big of you to ask me how I feel about her making her own choice, when you were happy to put the gun to her head yourself last week. Sneer at me all you want, Quinny boy, but at least I ain’t about to murder her, bubs and all.”

Quinn’s expression was dark and angry, his shoulders stiff with tension. “Lord Dara and I have come to an understanding about the events of last week-”

“Yeah, and strangely enough I ain’t her- you think I’m just gonna let your bullshit go? That woman saved us all, and she means the fucking world to me. Call it love or call it respect or whatever the fuck you want, but I ain’t gonna let go of the fact that you tried to take her away from me- from all of us.”

They stared at each other, fury radiating from both of them; Quinn was the one to look away first. “If that will be all, lieutenant,” he spat, barely restrained loathing in his voice, “I’d appreciate if you could vacate my med bay.”

Pierce rubbed at the burn, massaging in some of the gel. “Nah, mate, this won’t be all,” he said, pushing up off the bed and stalking past him. “But she’s my number one priority right now, so you got yourself a breather for five minutes.”

Quinn stood stiffly as the footsteps retreated behind him, bacta salve still held too tightly in hand until he heard the soft hiss of the door to Tahrin’s room. Alone at last with the silence of the ship, his shoulders finally drooped and he tossed the salve onto the rest of the mess on the desk; tidying it all could come in the morning, when he had the energy. 

He’d anticipated two outcomes when he’d planned the attack against Tahrin- either his programming of the droids would be adequate to counter her skills and kill her, or she would triumph and kill him in her anger at being betrayed. 

He hadn’t counted on a third option.

He hadn’t assumed to find mercy when he had offered up only treachery. 

Yet here he was, very much alive and awkwardly forgiven by her- if not by the rest of her eclectic crew- and struggling to learn how it was he was meant to live with his conscience. 

With a sigh, he pushed aside the worst of the mess so he could access the computer terminal at the desk, and pulled up a file labelled _Hyperdrive: Round Four Test Results_. It would never be recompense for what he had done, but it was a start.


End file.
